

.y$^y&t&. 



A BOOKLET 

OF 

SOCIAL POEMS 



BY 



JOHN H, HIRT 



'O fortunate child ! unto thee 

Thy cradle is infinite space; 
Become thou a man, then will be 

The whole world a very small place." 

Sc/u7hT. 



PRODUCT OF 

perry's PRINTERY 

I gOO 

u 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

APR, 12 1901 

Copyright entry 
JJ[&ajl % \C(co 
CLASS CI XRe. Nv. 

//ofc? 

COPY B. 






Copyright, 1900, by 
JOHN H. HIRT. 



CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME 



Our Hope 

The Poet 

Falls of the Missouri 

Custer Massacre 

Isaac Haden's Charge 

Unknown 

Chinook 

Floral Search 

Tennyson 

Whittier 

Ego 

Social Democracy 

Washington's Farewell Address 

Capital Punishment . 

Policeman's Defense 

"The Red, Red West" 

Waiting for the Bulletins 

Sonnets — 

Poet Life 

Col. Robert G. Ingersoll 

Wealth . 

Charles Floyd, U. S. A. 

Socialism 

Junius Letters 

Solitude . 

Handcuffed Skeleton 

"Remember the Maine" 

Ingratitude 

Lost Love 

Genius. 

Doubt 



Translated from Schiller — 

The German Muse . . . 85 

Hope ..... .86 

Worth of Women . . . . 87 

Sentences of Confucius: Time ... 91 

Sentences of Confucius: Space . . • 9 2 

Translated from Goethe — 

Bride of Corinth . . . . -93 

Thanks . . . ■ • • .104 



PREFATORY NOTE 

In youth the author was imbued with the sublime conception 
that he would sooner be a Tennyson or a Longfellow than presi- 
dent of the United States. 

Kind friends, however, made many persuasive efforts to 
induce him to give up that "fool-notion"; not that they thought 
his chances to become president of our republic were good, but 
that most of our poets have lived on the brink of starvation. But 
careful observation has convinced him that an equal percentage 
of those following other pursuits have fared, and still fare, no 
better; therefore he now makes a penitential return to his first 
love — the Muse. 

Owing to being confronted by the "small beginning" proposi- 
tion, explanatory notes, prepared to accompany these poems, are 
omitted. 



A book-worm course 

Has been the source 
Whence, fountain- like ; these thoughts arose, 

Like multitude 

Of springs exude, 
From brooklets, each to other flows 

O'er fan - like territory, 

Becoming tributary 
U?ito a mighty river which 
To ocean bears its treasures rich. 

E'en such our hopes 

Of figures, tropes, 
And all that serves this little make-up; 

That their at length 

United strength 
Finds them at rosy dawning wake up, 

Defyi?ig critics ever, 

Abreast some giant river, 
That flows into the mighty ocean 
Of poems safe from oblivion. 



SOCIAL POEMS 



THE POET 

(WITH invocation) 

Full many a poet's born to bloom, 

But like the flower that bloomed 
In desert waste unseen, 

Are his first efforts e'en 
'Mongst barren brains foredoomed; 
Or oft' such scanty glean 
His toils reward, that in the gloom 
His early muse's entombed. 

9 



The thought suggested charity — 
(O pen! you are too slow; 
Like zigzag lightnings flash 
Our tideling thoughts, and dash 
At random to and fro 
As quick as sudden crash 
Can split in halves eternity 

With awful shiv'ring glow.) 

Return, suggested charity, 

Before we change the thought 
Again, our rolic rhyme 
To meet its frolic time; 

Perhaps a strayling caught 
May add a rhythmic chime, 
Till we — if you will render me 

Your aid, will find well fraught 



Hereafter worthy charity 

On worthy bard bestowed: 
Though fame may be the need 
Alleviating meed 

That paves the thorn-path road 
He treads in reckless heed, 
He well prepays the moiety 

Thereof on him bestowed. 

Tho' many a mind beams genial rays 
Of charity untried, 
The poet's high desire 
Expands a living fire 

Of sunrise glorified; 
And sun-like rising higher, 
Till with a single scroll of lays 
The world's electrified. 



Hail, Muses, heed our invocation; 
If you should guide upon 
Our well-meant scroll of lays 
Some happy, sanguine rays 

Hurled from the parent sun — 
Arrested in their plays 
Of pell-mell dancing through creation. 
Our gratitude is won. 

E'en here, out in this far north-west, 
An earnest pioneer, 
Which some one needs must be 
Without apology, 

Ere 'nother can appear, 
Who likewise longs to be 
Historic rhyme -recording guest 
Upon our vast frontier. 



Hail, Muses, all you ancient nine! 
One more for every State 
In union wedded, we, 
To this society, 

Herewith initiate — 
Young sisters tho' they be, 
They're lacking naught of the divine- 
In freedom up to date. 

Montana, Muse of Freedom, hail! 
Upon your mountain peaks 
The goddess has her throne — 
If blizzards howl and moan 
Their mad tyrannic freaks 
Our mild chinooks atone; 
While sprites of living Tells empale 
A freedom nature speaks. 
13 



Hail, Muses, who the fancy teach, 
And truancy you chide! 
Hail, guardian angels of 
The poets whom you love, 

Whose mystic pen you guide, 
And ard'rous zeal approve! 
No raving critics we beseech, 
Their good intents belied. 

Let sober as a judge be these, 
Or's judges ought to be, 
Lest authors tremble as 
The vagrant, ruffian class 
Their fate impatiently 
Awaiting. What poet has, 
Howe'er he errs not, or may please, 
Infallibility? 

14 



But we will bid a welcome to 
The friendly hand that may 
Point to some likely error 
That herein may appear, or, 

Although our first word-play 
May faulty efforts mirror, 
Can point to sanguine plaudits due, 
When comes our judgment day. 




FALLS OF THE MISSOURI 

Clarke and Lewis came exploring 
On the bosom of Missouri; 

Lewis first came to the roaring 
Of the falls of the Missouri. 

Came the fearless great explorer, 
Saw the grandeur of the falls, 

Awestruck heard the mighty roarer, 
Hemmed by massive canyon walls. 

Long he sat amazed and wondered 

'Fore those sandstone strata walls, 
Where Missouri down a hundred 
Perpendicular feet falls. 

16 



When amazement had subsided 

O'er the water's magic fury, 
Soon upon a name decided — 
The Great Falls of the Missouri. 

All night long he lay before it, 
By its rushing lulled to sleep; 

On the morrow to explore it 

Farther climbed the rugged steep. 

O th' inspiring scene before him 

When he reached the height of land! 

Scenic grandeur to allure him. 
Far as eye-sight could extend. 

On with eager strides ascending, 
Passed by steps the water made 

In successive leaps descending, 
Falls, and rapids, and cascade — 

17 



Till he came where fall these charming 

Waters o'er irreg'lar walls, 
Horse-shoe semicircle forming — 

This he named the Crooked Falls. 

While he thus his eyes regaling, 

On what seemed more like a dream, 

Louder roar his ears assailing 

Thundered down the magic stream: 

Thither hastening to behold, 
As if art had hewed the walls 

Cross the channeled river-mould 
Over which the water falls 

Fifty feet, like silv'ry spar, 

Down these perfect massive walls, 

Straight and perpendicular — 

Rightly named the Rainbow Falls. 







v. 




Here the sunlight's golden rays 
Lose themselves in rainbow hues, 

As they mingle with the sprays 
Rising in majestic views. 

Near above the stream more humble, 
'Tween the disappearing walls, 

Takes a little twelve-foot tumble, 
Which is named the Colter's Falls. 

Here a giant fountain issues — 
Subterranean river's mouth, 

Boiling through the cliff-bank fissures, 
Flowing north from mountains south, 

Where rise many brooklets that a 
Short flow take adown the plain, 

Then 'neath northward dipping strata 
Sinking, here an outlet gain. 
19 



Eagerly and curious, further 

On his dream-like course pursued, 

Till he came unto another 
Falls of mighty magnitude. 

Forty feet of rugged tumbling, 
As if turned from placid gladness, 

Irritated by the jumbling 

Into wild and frenzied madness. 

Louder from an isle beneath it, 
Than the roaring of the falls, 

Screamed uprising eagle, greeted 

Him, hence named Black Eagle Falls. 

Here the Indians told a legend, 
That for ages that same eagle 

Built its nest upon this island — 
Sacred bird, thy home was legal ! 



Not another scenic view is 
To be seen on the Missouri 

As here greeted Clarke and Lewis 
With both placidness and fury. 

In the distance rise the mountains 
Tow'ring high above the plains* 

From eternal snows and fountains, 
There Missouri source obtains. 

And they often heard a thunder 
As of firing of a cannon; 

Of this mystic mountain wonder 
A solution give us can none, 

Save the Indians who forever 
Solve phenom'nal nature's laws, 

With some more mysterious, ever 
Ready legend give the cause — 



O'er and o'er their story told, 

That deep in the rock- ribbed mountains 
Were exploding mines of gold 

Which forth issues from the fountains. 

Flowers beautifully blowing 
On the rolling plains they met; 

Often hard the wind was blowing — 
(Hark! I hear it blowing yet.) 

Oft' they weathered rain and snows, 
Trod on thorns of prickly pears, 

Hunted deers and buffaloes, 

And fought rattlesnakes and bears. 

Great and grand is the Misouri, 

Crystal clear its waters are 
Here, but afterwards made muddy 

By dissolving mauvaises terres. 



Many, many'll come adoring 
As the first explorers did, 

Hear the same unending roaring 
That these first adorers did, 

Till the sciences will tarnish 
All that prestine beauty found, 

But a famous city garnish 
All our prairie lands around. 



* 



23 



CUSTER MASSACRE 

Foothills and plains are nigh 
Where these dead heroes lie; 
Heroes that Custer led — 
Heroes that fought and bled, 

Ruthlessly slain. 
Madly our nation grieved 
When we the news received 
Of the rude massacre — 
How these brave soldiers were 

Slain on the plain. 
24 



Two hundred and sixty-two 
Of gallant Custer's crew, 
Followed their leader home — 
Followed him to their doom, 

Down to their graves. 
Not one was missing there; 
Not one found wounded there 
All dead — all massacred — 
Saddest that e'er occurred 

Unto our braves. 



Demons surrounded them; 
Stampede confounded them ; 
War-whoops and hellish yells 
Sounded death's awful knells 
In mad despair. 
25 



Not one for safety seeks — 
Crackling midst groans and shrieks, 
Rifles and pistols were 
Belching forth everywhere 
Hell's fiery glare. 



Then every soldier knew 
Ignoble death was due, 
Facing that savage throng, 
Fully five thousand strong, 

Of Sitting Bull. 
Records insensible 
Is all there's left to tell 
How the Seventh Cavalry 
Charged the fierce savagery 

Of Sitting Bull. 
26 



Marble slab marks the ground 
Where each hacked corpse was found 
Low the wind sings for them 
Its saddest requiem 

Over their graves. 
Gallant Seventh Cavalry! 
Models of bravery! 
To them we'll point with pride; 
Sadly our thoughts abide 

With Custer's braves. 



#fe 



27 



ISAAC HADEN'S CHARGE 



Haden, Alabama's brave young hunter, 

Reared and kept a famous pack of hounds, 

Roving where not yet the chains of Gunter 
Had traversed those rich alluvial grounds; 

Many wild young plants around him growing, 

Year by year, nor ceased continual blowing, 
Sowed and raised in nature's paradise, 
'Neath those warm and brilliant sunny skies. 
28 



Early as the birds awoke the morning', 

Singing their adieu unto the night, 
As the firefly's lantern ceased its burning, 

Giving way unto a greater light; 
And ere sunbeams 'gan on dewdrops feeding, 
Mounted he his steed of noble breeding, 

Mating well the one Adonis rode 

When by wily Venus he was wooed. 

But a signal soon he gave that morning, 
Prancing, dancing, stop, upprick his ears, 

Scent the air — twas an unfailing warning 
To his rider, one who ne'er knew fears. 

"Ah! some fiendish Creeks are here abounding;" 

This he said, then gave his horn a sounding; 
Sixty savage hounds obeyed the blast, 
Each would fight unto the very last. 
29 



No response the solemn air was bringing, 
Save the loud, long echo of his horn 

Through the solitary forest ringing, 

Fainter growing till it reached its bourn. 

An impulsive boding coming o'er him, 

Ling'ring as a guiding-star before him, 
Set towards Fort Sinquefield his brigade, 
As if there might be needed his aid. 

Many sparkling dewdrops brightly smiling, 
Gazed into our hero's anxious face, 

Often e'en his rambling thoughts beguiling 
Into musings of what might take place 

Ere the sun, soon cross the zenith flying, 

Safe within his western bed be lying — 
Or the second twilight of that day 
Courtingly'd embrace a nodding ray. 
30 



Scattered round on every side were flowers, 
Long, tall grass, huge, overhanging trees, 

Forming many cool, inviting bowers 

For the birds, and insects, and wild bees; 

While such game as from their lairs upstarting, 

Unmolested could take safer parting, 
Since our hero deemed it best this day 
Silently to take his unsafe way. 

Almost perpendicularly were the 

Sun's hot rays descending upon one 
Whose rememb'rance, and whose name are worthy 

Honor for the daring deed he's done; 
When he, soon with monsters to be dealing, 
Unobserved upon the fort came stealing, 

When — ah me! ah mortals, what a sight! 

Sudden horror pierced his manly sprite! 
31 



To give burial unto fallen comrades, 
At some little distance from the fort, 

Not believing that near by were some reds, 
Rude barbarians of a war-like sort, 

Ambuscaded within range of shooting, 

Came the people, so their caution soothing, 
That no watch was set to give alarms, 
No gates closed, nor took with them their arms. 

Francis' warriors from the grass upspringing, 
Thirsting for a bath in human gore, 

Sent so loud a savage war-cry ringing 
As these settlers never heard before; 

Burning with high hopes to gain possession 

Of the gates, then fall on the procession, 
Who unarmed, and in an open field, 
Unto ruthless slaughter soon must yield. 
32 



But the people of this stockade fortress 

Quickly this intended plan foresaw; 
Then at breakneck speed, they ran a footrace 

With these savages, all crude and raw 
Unto modern arts to war pertaining — 
Now the men at first the entrance gaining. 

Shut the gates — but O! what did they do? 

Saw their wives and children shut out too! 

Haden, with cool head, and dauntless courage, 

At this moment coming to the fort, 
While the Indians o'er their helpless forage, 

Gloried in the hopes of carnage sport, 
Cried unto his dogs, and charged before them 
Through their thickest ranks, e'en riding o'er them 

Savagely each hound his victim tore, 

Strewing fast the ground with corpses o'er. 

33 



Suddenly this unforeseen intrusion, 

Charging fiercely at terrific rate; 
Threw the Indians into such confusion, 

That the people safely reached the gate; 
But our hero — look! behold him charging! 
Wide a gap right through their ranks enlarging — 

He, to whom is due a world of thanks, 

Forced his way e'en through their thickest ranks. 

They, now foiled in every purpose, 

Quick recovering from their sudden fright, 

Turned with vengeful fury, and new purpose, 
Their whole force upon this fearful knight — 

Closed their ranks to cut off his retreating — 

Death now sent before his awful greeting; 
Bravely would he die for a good cause, 
Bravely die, but gain a world's applause. 

34 



Smaller, as he hast'ly marshaled round him 
His remaining hounds, grew hopes for life, 

For the savages 'gan to surround him, 
Firmer their intent on deadly strife; 

Hotter now their vengeful ire is burning — 

Drawing's pistols, one per hand, then turning, 
Dashed the spurs into his horse's flanks, 
And replunged into the firing ranks. 

Scarcely through the savage ranks rebroken, 
Stormed and shot at fiercely from each side — 

As a ray of hope had just awoken, 

Reeled and fell his gallant steed and died: 

Yet afoot, a final effort trying, 

Safely he into the fort came flying; 

But his noble steed, his famous hounds, 

Side by side dead Indians decked the grounds. 

35 



UNKNOWN. 



Some penance do this side the hearse, 

But some, 'tis said, beyond; 
Some lives are sorrow-laden here 

Ere snaps life's youthful bond, 
Submerging buoyant heart in tears 

Which cast around the soul of love 
Dark shades that nature seems to make 

Vague object lessons of. 
36 



One pitch-dark night a young man came, 

Whom business belated, 
Just merging from the outskirts of 

A town somewhat ill-fated, 
Where robbers of the highway class 

The neighborhood infested, 
There oft relieved the travelers 

Of what they were invested. 



Below the low-hung clouds he tripped, 

Oft groping for his way, 
When faintly as if distant heard 

A moan — where from? which way? 
Anon again — but louder heard, 

Distinguishing a word. 
How odd it seemed — that one word "- 

The sound and sense absurd. 

37 



Though he had courage, yet mistrust 

Suspicion raised — the place 
By thieves was haunted — from that word 

He could no meaning trace; 
Twas mystery, that omnious " ," 

Intended to allure. 
His home he found — not sleep; his mind 

That sound re-echoed o'er. 

"One more unfortunate," next morn 

The dailies heralded; 
Out near the suburbs of the town 

A woman was found dead. 
From whence she came, where she would go, 

Or how she died — none knew; 
That mystic word which he had heard 

The only living clue 
38 



Enfathomed deep in mystery's 

Abyss. But merciful 
Was death that left a peaceful calm 

As symbol of her soul. 
'Mongst the unknown was burried she 

By stingy charity, 
Unmourned; not e'en a slab upon 

Her lonely grave to see. 

But racing, chasing, restless years 

Oft mysteries unraveled; 
His home to him was home no more, 

Soon westward he had traveled, 
Where unions and societies 

The mountaineers united 
Into fraternal fellowship, 

Or secret rites benighted. 

39 



Soon into Woodcraft's Circle he 

Was being initiated, 
When all its solemn mysteries 

Were unto him related — 
"Our warning sign's made thus — and this- 

Our danger signal is; 
At night, or if unseen, when in 

Distress, our cry is ' ' " — 

"O God !l heard that cry before," 

The young man said and staggered, 
"I did not know its meaning then 

And therefore proved a laggard." 
The story's told; if reader you 

Stand at some strange grave e'er, 
Pause, ponder, for perhaps it is 

A Neighbor resting there. 
4 o 



CHINOOK 



Warm as from ocean bath, 
Taking thy mountain-path — 
Onward like ocean's tide 
Comst thou, Montana's pride; 

Hail thee, Chinook. 
Over high craig and peak, 
Bounding with mystic freak — 
O'er the round buttes you sweep, 
Down through the canyons deep- 
Hail thee, Chinook. 



Chilly and snapping rare, 
Till comes thy balmy air, 
Then the shy antelopes, 
High on their mountain-slopes 

Hail thee, Chinook. 
While the sun's rays delay, 
Dost thou oft melt away, 
Ice, frost and snow away, 
All in a night or day — 

Hail thee, Chinook. 



Everywhere comest thou; 
Every nook soundest thou; 
Where the cured grass yet stands 
Feeding the shepherd's bands, 
Horses and cattle. 
42 



Mountains can stay thee not; 
Blizzards delay thee not; 
Over our arid lands, 
Over our prairie-lands, 
Won is thy battle. 



Wrapped in frigidity 
Would our whole winter be, 
If thou didst not appear 
Checking his fierce career — 

Hail thee, Chinook. 
Bringst Indian-summers clear, 
Warming mid-winter here, 
Making savanna-lands 
Of our Montana-lands — 

Hail thee, Chinook. 

43 



Here the wild buffalo 
With his fierce eyes aglow, 
Was by the Indian chased 
O'er the wide range embraced 

By thee, Chinook. 
Soon they will chase no more 
Mountain and prairie o'er, 
But you will come the same; 
Hail to thy Indian name — 

Hail thee, Chinook. 



t 



44 



FLORAL SEARCH. 



Multitudes went picking flowers; 
Authors uith inventive genius, 
Some clad in the robes of Junius, 

Incognito's secret powers; 

Statesmen wrapped in oratory; 
Ministers who lull to sleep us 
Into dust that hence will keep us; 

Jurists grown with wisdom hoary ; 

Novelists from all life's stations; 

Lawyers learned from Hoyle to Story, 
Dodging truth, inventing story; 
Editors who sway the nations; 

45 



Doctors, artists, soldiers marching — 

Great philosophers and sages 

Schooled in lore of mystic ages; 
Tutors, pupils — all went searching 

Over hills and valleys mellish, 

Fens, fields, mountains, meadows, moorlands, 

Ocean, heaven, for the garlands, 
Their life-efforts to embellish — 

But alas! they found before them 

Went the poet's floral reaper; 

Of the choicest he was keeper; 
He, the first one to adore them, 

Sowed his floral seeds at morning 
Of our languages, and nourished 
Them till they in grandeur flourished, 

Learning's fruitful fields adorning. 
4 6 



Then the search was given over; 

Now 'tis but to take or borrow; 

In our joys, or in our sorrow, 
With his floral wreaths we cover 

Infants in their cradled morning, 
Youths all vigorous and active, 
Riper age just returned retractive, 

And the dust to dust returning. 



rfc 



47 



TENNYSON. 



Tennyson our poet's blest 
With death's angel's last request, 
With a longed-for quiet rest — 
England's Poet Laureate. 

On life's stage his noble heart 
Lives where he has played a part 
Dear to every human heart — 
England's Poet Laureate. 

Holy thoughts to us he's given, 
Sweetened with a peaceful leaven, 
Till they reach from earth to heaven 
England's Poet Laureate. 



Master of our English verse, 
Owner of the lyric purse, 
With his thoughts we still converse; 
England's Poet Laureate. 

Monarch of his vast survey, 
Framer of the golden lay, 
Peacefully he passed away — 
England's Poet Laureate. 

His a heart of tenderness, 
His a thought of peacefulness, 
His a life the world shall bless — 
England's Poet Laureate. 

November, 1892. 



49 



WHITTIER. 



Whittier our poet's dead, 
Are the news the light'nings sped, 
Are the sad news to be read 
Of our Quaker Poet. 

Poet grand, sublime, sedate, 
Pillar of poetic state, 
Freedom's soldier true and great, 
Was our Quaker Poet. 

Born to slavery abhor, 
Cradled in a freeman's car, 
Nurtured in a freedom's war, 
Was our Quaker Poet. 

50 



Ere came Lincoln's call for men, 
Out upon the field e'en then, 
Flashed the mighty soldier pen 
Of cur Quaker Poet. 

Foremost in the fierce turmoil, 
On the shrine of freedom's soil, 
Such a life of honest toil 
Lived our Quaker Poet. 

In his noble thoughts we trace 
What must lasting peace embrace. 
Peaceful is the resting place 
Of our Quaker Poet. 

November, 1892. 



5 1 



EGO. 



Strange to say, a custom's risen, 
Writing one's own epitaph; 

Egotism, which crowds the season, 
Longs to see some worthless chaff 

Blown about the puffed-up head 

Ere the lump of flesh is dead. 

Time's remorseless vandalism 

Levels down all works of art, 
Nature's stern materialism 

Playing its indifferent part, 
All euphoneously known 
By one word — oblivion. 
52 



Futile is our cynic searching 

Here for immortality; 
All that was is dead or lurching 

Dim in vast eternity — 
This, however, "Earth to Earth," 
Is most truthful of this Hirt. 




53 



SOCIAL DEMOCRACY. 

Did Jefferson inaugurate 

That there should be no progress made 
In true democracy? 
Did Jackson at a later date, 

Who more upon the structure laid 
Of true democracy, 
Ordain that nothing be augmented 
To what they nobly represented? 

54 



As well proclaim that liberty 
Enjoyed a thousand years ago 
Is good enough today; 
And that in knowledge we should be 
Brought back to that benighted woe, 
When not a sanguine ray 
Could penetrate those sad, dark ages 
That e'er becloud historic pages. 

Who stands while all else moves along, 
Needs not retrace his steps to be 
'Mongst those who retrograde; 
E'en so a powerful party throng 
Must ever with the foremost be 
To evolute its grade — 
Must 'void infallible profession, 
The first frail step to retrogression. 

55 



To travel in the good old ways 
May some old fogies satisfy 
Whose learning days are o'er; 
But when an active mind's eye plays 
Unceasing rays of progress nigh 
That youth e'er ponders o'er, 
We seek what happiness enhances, 
Whereby true liberty advances. 

O Socialism! we hail the day 

On which you're made the happy bride 
Of true democracy, 
When we the pow'r of wealth can stay 
That tyranizes far and wide — 
Mock aristocracy, 
Defying strength yet in our hands 
To save ourselves, our homes, our lands. 
56 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 



Today a hundred years ago * 

George Washington's farewell address 
Was given to the wo'ld, 
Immortal document, to go 
Adown the ages, e'er to bless 
Us as its truths unfold — 
Such was our patriot's bequest 
Before he sought his well-earned rest 
In the eternal fold. 

* September 19, 1796 

57 



O, if each word that it contains 
Were deep engraven in each breast 
As it was in his own! 
All, all were ours that freedom gains, 
No foreign foe would show his crest, 
Home traitors be unknown; 
And all would share the common good 
Of one vast social brotherhood 
To riper union grown. 

Divided we but traitors are 
Unto each other, never need 
To quit our own to stand 
On foreign ground ; pollute the air 
With discontent, and it will breed 
Mistrust, dissentions, and 
Thus we at home, the foreigner 
Will reap, before we are aware, 
The proceeds of our land. 
5S 



Let union dear to every heart, 
No wars abroad, and peace at home, 
Remain our dearest prize; 
No private gains to rend us 'part, 
Nor jeasousies to seal our doom 
In lawful enterprise — 
Through common dangers to success 
Was won that freedom we possess, 
That seals our sacred ties. 

If we uphold the rights of man, 
And concentrate such powers 
As in our manhood lie, 
That sacred name — American, 
By birthright or adoption ours, 
Can never, never die: 
Affections concentration find 
Where all are of a common mind, 
And bound by common tie. 
59 



So baneful is all partyism, 
The party tyrant, party slave, 
Unto our freedom's cause; 
Inviting sectional despotism, 
The rich and powerful to brave 
Defiantly our laws — 
That eagerly did Washington 
Admonish us forever shun 

Those freedom puncturing flaws. 

O read it , true Americans! 

Reread, and let your brains digest 
That ever sacred warning, 
Lest individual wealth unmans 
Us, luring into selfish quest 
Our liberty's first dawning; 
Or prostituted we shall see, 
By Mammon's despot tyrany, 
Our freedom die aborning. 
60 



CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 



Cap'tal punishment's a lawful, 

Barb'rous relic undecried, 
Handed down through darkest ages 
When the best and wisest sages 

Were on crosses crucified, 
Burned, or stoned to death — O awful! 
Tho' scarce worse than hanging, shooting, 
Or the late electrocuting. 



Though a soldier's justified 
Killing dang'rous enemies, 

Worse were he than beastly cur 

If he slew his prisoner; 

Worse by far, in times of peace, 

To kill captured homicide; 

Judges too was giv'n to fill 

That command, Thou shalt not kill. 

Naught it is but vengeful strife, 
When premeditated murder — 

Murder in the first degree, 

Justifies society 

Cooly execute another — 

Blood for blood, life for a life, 

By a hireling prosecution, 

Law directing execution. 



Stigma 'pon our Christian lands! 

Murd'ring is by law prolonged; 
For by cap'tal punishment 
Is established precedent 

Whereby those who have been wronged, 
Taking law in their own hands, 
Think themselves quite justified 
In committing homicide. 

Future ages will look back — 

Back to us as we to those 
Who burned witches at the stake, 
And the heretic to make 

Him recant, in martyr woes, 
Doctrines living spite of rack — 
Tortures for supposed transgression, 
Practices of non-progression. 
63 



Then let cap'tal punishment 

Be repealed, and substitute 
Prison-law that safely cares 
For such dangerous characters, 

In some proper institute — 
Be it life-imprisonment, 
Till that Judge on yon tribunal 
Passes judgment on the crim'nal. 



64 



POLICEMAN'S DEFENSE. 

As stern a policeman as ever was seen, 

Whom time-honored service had stamped with a mien 

Of stone-heartedness to the criminal sort, 

Was tried for refusing to bring into court 

A thief he was sent for and had in his power, 

Who had made away with a small sack of flour. 

"I'm guilty, your honor — if crime 'tis of mine 
I'll herewith my official service resign: 
A merchant, grown rich, who by var'ous devices 
Succeeds in extorting exorbitant prices, 
Did send me for one I saw begging for work, 
While grim visaged hunger within him did lurk: 

65 



But labor, trust, aid, were denied him each hour, 

Till maddened with hunger skipped off with some flour, 

I followed him home, slyly opened the door, 

Six half-naked children upon the bare floor — 

Their invalid mother whose looks told of woe, 

Were mixing the flour and eating the dough. 

The father stood by with triumphant, sad air, 

While no guilty conscience my presence marked there; 

I viewed them in silence, but let them eat on; 

By me such imprisoning never was done. 

The favored few publicly, lawfully cheat, 

And hoard up provisions the many should eat. 

They shelve away clothing that was made to wear 
Instead of creating the rich millionaire, 
Who's worshiping only his mammonite idol, 



While millions of true men go hungry and idle. 
It would be quite easy the pilf'rers to cure, 
If first were convicted those robbing the poor. 

No factory wheels would be standing so still, 
And fewer the acres for no one to till: 
Our country's productive of more than is needed, 
Except human laws— these are trampled unheeded; 
While rude competition for riches holds sway, 
There's no hope in store for a happier day." 



67 



THE RED, RED WEST. 

Give me no home 
'Neath the pale pink dome 

Of European skies — 
No cot for me 
By the salmon sea 

That far to the southward lies; 
But away out west 
I would build my nest 

On top of a carmine hill, 
Where I can paint 
Without restraint 

Creation redder still. 

— Eugene Field. 

Correct my 'Gene, 

Is your whim, I ween, 

Regarding our red west — 
Where the lurid hues 
Are the sanguine views 

Men hold till one cannot rest, 
You may paint our head 

68 



E'en creation red 

Those red still a redder glow 
But pass one law, 
A good old saw, 

And let the white horse go. 

— John IV. Conway. 



Correct my 'Gene, 
And you too, my John, 

For whoever has seen 
How the goddess reigns 
On our western plains, 

Is lured by her charms, I ween 
In our desert air, 
E'en in mauvaises terres, 

Spell-binds her enam'ring glow; 
Then have your say, 
Paint, paint away, 

White horse and all aglow. 
69 



WAITING FOR THE BULLETINS. 

An old man paced the streets upon 

With anxious careworn face, 
For now the fighting has begun 

With th' Filipino race: 
He scans the eager board for bulletins, 

No one disturbs him there, 
For yesterday the sad news were 

His son was wounded there. 



Chorus — 



Oh tell me the news from the Philippines- 
Tell me if my son still lives: 

Oh let me read the bulletins — 
Oh tell if he still lives! 



A mother tears her streaming hair, 

A telegram she read, 
That without warning startled her 

As if her son were dead; 
The consoling words her friends would give 

Soothe not her anxious care, 
For yesterday the sad news were 

Her son was wounded there. 

A sister's tears now blind her eyes 

While waiting for more news; 
And one with secret heartfelt sighs 

For information sues — 
The old man is bending lower with care, 

Whiter are his bleaching hair, 
For yesterday the sad news were 

His son was wounded there. 



POET LIFE. 

As does a mirror to a maiden give 
An image of herself in choice attire, 
Portraying beauties of her own desire — 

How in the prime of life her fancies live 

Qn beck'ning hopes till she arrives at eve 
Of youth, the roses of her cheeks expire 
Like echoes of the low vibrating lyre, 

And is in self-delusion left to grieve; 

E'en so we see a character, a vein 
In verse, portraying poet life a toy; 
Or see of hope, of love, heart's deep desire, 

Of mirth, ambition, bitter dregs remain 
When he had sipped his hasty cup of joy 
Warmed by his loved congenial Muse's fire. 
72 



COL. ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 

Your body to cremation you decreed; 

Each atom thus to gaseous state returned, 
Except the treasured ashes now inurned, 
Shall be absorbed by tree, or flower, or seed- 
Thereby new life with new subsistence feed. 
That coffined rest a body may have earned 
Not needed is if useless parts be burned, 
Restoring to the elements their meed. 
But where's your spirit that once proved to be 
The worshiped idol of'n admiring race? 
Our scientific researches appear 
Inadequate to solve the mystery — 

But pause — it too must have a proper place 
In nature's evolutionary sphere. 
73 



WEALTH. 

Tis individual ownership of wealth 

That opens wide temptation's sinful door; 

We murder, steal, then for forgiveness roar, 
But in the same breath cry out for more wealth- 
Insatiate curse-cry echoing "more wealth!" 

Into temptation lead us not, implore 

We of the Deity, at heart adore 
The greatest tempter — Golden Calf. For wealth. 
Through willful negligence, inhuman greed, 

Each of his fellowman a murd'rer is. 
If nations owned our vast utilities, 
Distributing the same to those in need, 

We all could live in real Utopian bliss, 
Free from wealth-slaveries, toil-miseries. 

74 




BLACK RAGLE FALLS BEFORE IMPROVEMENT 
See Page 20. 



CHARLES FLOYD, U. S. A. 

For years was sought the grave of Sergeant Floyd. 
Which nigh a century ago was made 
By his companions, and last tribute paid, 
Upon a bluff that skirts Missouri's side 
In Iowa; oblivion to 'void, 

A cedar post was set where he was laid, 
With name and date inscribed to aid 
Its being after found— identified. 
Rut e'en this land-mark was by time erased — 
The search prolonged, ere it was found 
Where Lewis and Clarke's exploring party laid him 
Let o'er the spot a monument be placed, 
Where his untimely death made him renowned; 
There honors due a soldier e'er be paid him. 
75 



SOCIALISM. 

Reformers have for ages striven for true, 

Untrammeled socialism, whose sun witli might 
Now broadcasts 'pon our age a dawning light 

Wherewith the selfish gropers to imbue — 

Come Socialism, uprear your banner to 

The breeze; the stars and stripes are yours by right 
'Neath which we have been rocked in dim twilight 

A century — you childlike merge to view. 

Not always are they fittest who survive — 

Each hour sees honest, worthy brains waylaid 
By cunning, treach'rous, dastard, tyrant knaves: 

Till none in honest livelihood can thrive — 
Our competition is the death of trade, 

From which but socialism can free us slaves. 
76 



JUNIUS LETTERS. 

Full many a volume has been given to 

The world to prove the authorship of those 
Mysterious letters — famed, illustrious, 
Wherein no quarter given, for none would sue, 
Did satire and sarcasm each fiend subdue — 

Quailed conscience found a thorn-bed's keen repose- 
From shafts secure did the anonymous 
His unrelenting pen-war's course pursue: 
But style's the man — which does alone confess, 
Though hidd'n behind assumed chirography, 
The authorship — style does not well disguise. 
These fourteen sonnet lines my claim express — 
I point to Goldsmith, and proclaim 'twas he 
Who gave the world that literary prize. 
77 



SOLITUDE. 

O solitude! why should we strive to part? 
Why should we hate each other? or disown 
That we have ever met? We are but one — 

If twain, our home is centered in one heart. 

Sometimes 'tis joy — sometimes old sorrows smart, 
Or some remorseful sting for aught not won, 
Impinges consciousness of what's not done — 

What might have been is lost to every art. 

Perhaps some budding petal still retains 

Some flow'ry posibilities for summer [bloom 

When springtime's tend'rer shootlings cease to 

Then let us make the best of what remains 
Of sanguine opportunities that come ere 

Life's winter drifts white mantles o'er the gloom 
78 







THE GIANT SPRINGS. 
See Page 19. 



HANDCUFFED SKELETON. 

How did you die? O handcuffed skeleton! 

What band of desperadoes did you man? 

Or dev'lish deeds your daring nature plan, 
Ere you for years were bleaching in the sun — 
Perhaps purgating reckless crimes you've done? 

Canst tell when first your wild career began? 

How from the sheriff's guard away you ran 
Into the mountains, with your handcuffs on? 
Perchance a victim to some beast of prey, 

Or hunger gnawed your remnant vitals out, 
While cumbered with your iron manacle? 
Or did you die a penetant and pray 

As some of dying culprits tell about? 

Your white-bleached bones but silent answers tell 
79 



"REMEMBER THE MAINE" 

"Remember the Maine," we remember the Maine. 
Too deeply those words in our bosom are burned 
That they should e'er by us be carelessly spurned; 

Not even one victory did Hispana gain, 

As if to avenge the sad fate of the Maine. 

Ah, dearly paid lesson — the Spaniards have learned 
To harbor in safety the ship that has turned, 

Enticed with peace mission, in port to remain. 

"Remember the Maine," then the signal to fire, 
When Commodore Dewey so gallantly won 
His marvelous victory over the don. 

"Remember the Maine" — how it kindled sad ire! 
But news of the ill-fated fleet of Cervera 
Awakened compassion — began peaceful era. 

80 



INGRATITUDE. 

Ingratitude — O bitter cup to drink! 

For one who Cuban battles bravely fielded; 

To free his neighb'ring fellowmen, hath yielded, 
Ere he'd from erstwhile patr'otism shrink, 
Position that had been the faithful link 

That scanty hand to mouth subsistance wielded; 

Though he by hon'rable discharge is shielded, 
Must tramp the wand'ring refugee's cold brink 
Of an inhuman world's ingratitude. 

Oft does our patriotic duty pave 

One's road to wealth — another's to the grave — 
Oh curse of mammon's rude insatiate mood! 

How must our innate soldier pride decay 

If those who serve receive ungrateful pay! 

81 



LOVE LOST. 

A poet is inclined to write of love 

At risk of being crazy loneling deemed, 

With wheels in head, or crank who daytimes dreamed 

What pu'rile dignities would disapprove — 

Their scoffing houses oft are burning of. 
I loved you truly; I'm your dreaming bard; 
Our love was sweet, but parting sad and hard. 

We all are prone to slide some narrow groove 

That Cupid shoots through — longing to be smitten, 
As if all courses of true love ran smooth — 
Alas! we seldom reckon with the host. 

The choicest words that poet pens have written, 
Pour but a temporary balm, forsooth, 

On hearts that nobly loved, but sadly lost. 
82 



GENIUS. 

Gift, talent, genius, oft border on 

Insanity; their vivid passions gleam 

Through every phase from small to great extreme- 
As high-strung string may vibrate discord tone, 
So talent to insanity is prone: 

Great, healthy brains house genius with ease, 

Before whose efforts difficulties cease — 
By toils persistent meriting their own. 

"Heaven in forming us has mixed our life 
With reason and insanity." — Voltaire. 

What's sane or insane in this savage strife 
We cherish — oft with melancholy air; 

While common sense some beaten path pursues, 

Does genius the rough untraveled choose. 

83 



DOUBT. 

To doubt's as natural as to believe; 

Credulity and skepticism are two 

Organic faculties each true unto 
The other if like chances they receive — 
Not antipodian, but's scales weight give. 

Was doubting Thomas damned who doubtful grew 

As with some hearsay evidence we do? 
Let proofs as he was given, our doubts relieve 
Whene'er inhemmed by contradictories; 

Let intuition sway majestic stress 

O'er skillful skeptic, stupid credulous, 
While search-light reason delves in mysteries 

Whereof a thoughtful student may express 

His doubts, nor be deemed wicked, scandalous. 
8 4 



THE GERMAN MUSE. 

No Augustan aged flower, 
Medicean wealth of power, 

Smiled upon the German art. 
By renown she ne'er was nourished, 
Opened her own petals, flourished 

Ere a royal ray took part. 

From the greatest German son, 

From the great King Fred'rick's throne 

Went she with unguarded spirit. 
Praises may the Germans sing, 
And their heart-beats rapture bring; 
They themselves have earned the merit. 

Therefore rises higher gleaming, 

And their waves have fuller streaming, 

When sings German bard his ode; 
In his own vast fullness swelling, 
From his great heart's depth upwelling, 

He disdains each pent-up mode. 

85 



HOPE. 

Men speak and dream of things so many, 

Of better days in view, 
And for some lucky golden penny 

Their hurried path pursue; 
The world grows old and young again, 
On better days their hopes remain. 

Through life hope guides so constantly; 

It with the child arrives; 
It coaxes youth so magicly, 

And at the tomb survives; 
Else would man's weary race then end, 
Yet even there doth hope extend. 

Tis not an idle vision's cheer, 

By foolish brain upborne; 
The heart announces loud and clear, 

We're something better born. 
Whate'er that inner voice may merit, 
It ne'er deludes the hoping spirit. 



WORTH OF WOMEN. 

Oh! honor the women; they weave and entwine 
The roses of heaven in life's earthly line, 

And thus braid together love's happiest band 
And in the pure veil of graceful desire, 
They wakefully nourish the eternal fire 

Of beautiful feelings, with angelic hand. 

Ever out of truth's domain 

Goes the strength of man astray; 
Over passion's sea amain 

Ride his stormy thoughts away. 
Eagerly he grasps afar, 

Stillness ne'er his heart imbues; 
Restless to remotest star 

His dream's picture he pursues. 
87 



With looks so enchanting, his heart thus enchain, 
Wink women the fugitive to them again, 

Thus warning him back in their presence to stay; 
Their custom of bashfulness wisely retaining, 
True daughters of beautiful nature remaining, 

For ne'er from the homes of their mothers they stray. 

Ever fiendish is man's strife, 

And with crushing force abreast 
Storming wildly on through life, 

Restless yet no place to rest; 
What he builds destroys instead, 

Ne'er his warring wishes rest; 
Never, as the Hydra's head, 

Soon as falls rerears its crest. 

But far more contented with stiller renown, 
Do women each moment's choice flower pluck down, 
And nurse it most kindly with dilligent care; 



She's freer than man in her lesser domain, 
Far richer than he is where wisdom is gain, 
And shines in the poet's unlimited sphere. 

Stern and proud himself sufficing 

Knows not man's cold icy breast, 
Of the warm heart's magnetizing, 

Of the nestling heart's fond rest; 
Nor the soul's communion feeling, 

Nor in tears does he dissolve; 
All life's conflicts ever steeling, 

Harder in his cold resolve. 

But as when so gently by soft zephyrs shaken, 
Aeolian harp-strings do quickly awaken, 

E'en so the warm spirit of woman replies ; 
From scenes that are painful is tenderly frightened, 
Her bosom uprises, and quickly are brightened, 
With heavenly dew-drops her soft pearly eyes. 



But in man's self-ruled dominion, 

Might makes right and tyrants brave; 
Scythian's sword proves his opinion, 

And the Persian's made a slave. 
Wild and raw his feudal choice, 

Revels he in gory fight; 
Eris now with savage voice, 

Reigns where Charis took to flight. 

But women with tender persuasive appeal, 

Sway custom's bright scepter with ardorous zeal. 

To quench the wild tumult that rages amain; 
And teaching the forces erst hating each other, 
With lovlier forms to embrace one another, 

Thus eternal rivals united remain. 



90 



SENTENCES OF CONFUSIUS 
TIME. 

Threefold marches Time on ever: 
Ling'ring comes the Future nigh us, 
Dart-like flies the Present by us, 

And the past stands still forever. 

No impatient animating 

Hast his steps if he delay. 
Curbs not fear nor hesitating, 

Him who hurries quick away 
No regret, no sacred charm, 
Gives the standing one alarm. 

Wouldst thou happy be and wise, 
And your life's race end likewise, 
Counsel with the ling'ring one, 
Tools for deeds of him make none; 
Ne'er the flying choose as friend, 
Nor the staying one as fiend. 
91 



SPACE. 



Threefold is vast Space extended: 
Far away, and ceasing never, 

Breadth its stream pours forth unended; 
Length strives restless on forever; 

Depth still sinking groundless ever. 

They're a picture given to you; 
Restless strife you must pursue, 
And exhausted never be, 
If thou wouldst perfection see; 
Must in Breadth yourself unfold, 
If its vastness wouldst behold; 
Into depth deep must you go, 
Should existence itself show; 
Only those who persevere, 
Gain in fullness what is clear, 
And in Depth does truth appear. 
92 



BRIDE OF CORINTH. 

From Athens unto Corinth came 

A youth, and hoped though stranger there, 
To friendship from a kinsman claim. 
Erst festal kins both fathers were, 
Who early had proclaimed, 
And bride and bridegroom named, 
Their son and daughter trothed pair. 

But will he find a welcome there, 

Or his heart for those favors bleed? 
For he and his yet heathens are, 

And they baptized in Christian creed. 
For when new faiths spring up, 
Is love and trust torn up, 
As is outrooted loathsome weed. 

93 



Now all the house in slumber laid, 

Sire and daughter, save the mother wakes; 
Received the guest, and welcome bade; 
Him straightway to his room she takes; 
And brings him food and wine, 
Before he seeks to dine: 
With kind "good night" her 'parture takes. 

Though dainties were for him prepared, 

No joys of appetite of him blessed; 
Fatigue for food and drink ne'er cared; 

Then on his couch, yet dressed, sought rest., 
And almost slumbered there, 
When glode with saddened air, 
Into the open door a guest. 

Sees by the glimmer of his light, 

Step into's room, with modest tread, 

A maiden dressed and veiled in white, 
And golden band around her head — 

94 



Surprised she halted, and 
Upraised her snow-white hand, 
As she beheld him on his bed. 

'Am I," she cries, "such stranger here, 

And nothing told me of the guest? 
O banished into convent drear! 

And now with shame am I oppressed 
Sleep, stranger, calmly there, 
Upon your couch so fair; 
As came, I'll go to my bequest." 

"Stay, goodly maiden, stay," he cries, 

Uprising quickly from his bed — 
"Here Seres', Bacchus' gifts are prize, 
And thou brings Amor here instead. 
How thou art pale of fright! 
Come let us see tonight 
What joyous lives the gods have led. 
95 



"O youth, stay there, thy distance keep; 

No claim enjoyment has for me; 

The last step's ta'en — I'm doomed to weep! 

In mother's sick-bed fancy, she 

Swore convalescent oath, 

That youth and nature both 

Shall unto heaven subjected be. 

"And then the old gods' motley throngs 
The silent house gave quickly o'er; 
But one, unseen, in heaven belongs, 
One Savior on the cross adore. 
While sacrifice is here 
Of neither lamb nor steer, 
But human beings more and more." 

He asks, and every word well weighs, 
As each one doth his spirit greet; 

"Is it then in this quiet place 
My own beloved bride I meet? 

9 6 



RAINBOW FALLS. 
See Page 18. 



Be mine, mine evermore; 
The pledge our fathers swore 
Doth heaven's bliss on us entreat." 

"I never can, good soul, be thine; 

My second sister's meant for thee. 
When in my heritage I pine, 
In her embrace, O think of me, 
Who thinks of only you, 
And pines with love so true, 
But soon within her grave shall be." 

"Nay! be it sworn by yonder flame, 
It Hyman bodes for you and me, 
To joys and me I'll thee reclaim; 
Come to my father's house with me. 
Stay, sweetheart, thine's the right 
To celebrate tonight, 
Our long-pledged wedding feast with me.' 

Then vows reciprocal were given; 
A golden chain she gave him there, 

97 



And he would her a cup have given, 
Artfully made and rare. 
"No, this is not for me, 
Yet I'll request of thee, 
To give of thine a lock of hair." 

When struck the hollow spirit hour, 

She first seemed well, and with delight 
The dark blood-colored wine would pour 
And quaff, her eager lips pale-white. 
Though wheaten bread was there, 
And kindly offered her, 
She tasted not thereof a mite. 

In turn to him the cup she brought, 

Who lustfully the proffer drank; 
While earnestly her love he sought; 
Ah ! lovesick his poor heart but frank. 
But still she would resist, 
Howe'er he would persist, 
Till weeping on the couch he sank. 



She too herself threw on the couch; 
"Ah, sad to see you in such pain! 
But oh! do thou my limbs but touch, 
You'll shrink from what my lips refrain; 
Although as white as snow, 
Yet cold as ice is, so 
Your sweetheart is whom you would gain." 

He clasped her madly in his arm, 
Through-manned with all love's youthful strengt 
Then hope that I can get thee warm, 

Though thou wert from the grave me sent. 
Exchange we breath and kiss! 
Here love's abundance is! 
Art cold and feelst my fire unspent?" 

Still closer locked were they by love, 

Alternate mingling joys and tears; 
She sips his eager flame of love, 

Till each in other lives as feres: 
And he with strong desire, 



LofC. 



99 



Her cold blood sets on fire, 
Yet for himself no heart-beat hears. 

Meanwhile the mother glides along, 
Some late work doing it appears; 
Till at the door she listens long, 

As wondrous sounds approach her ears 
Of bride and bridegroom moans, 
Both sad and joyous tones, 
And stam'ring of love's madness hears. 

To certainty more fully prove, 

She quietly stays near the door; 
Carressing words, high vows of love, 
Hears she in wrath, repeated o'er. 
"But hark! the cock daylight 
Proclaims; tomorrow night 
Wilt come again?" And kiss the more. 

No longer could the mother hold 

Her anger; opes the door. "Are there 



Such girls here in the house so bold, 
Who minions to the stranger are?" 
Then in the door did go, 
Where, by the lamp's bright glow, 
She sees — O God! her own child there. 

Then quick the youth in first alarm, 

With her own veil and lawn would hide, 
And shield the maiden from all harm. 
But wrested quickly from his side, 
Up slowly rose the sprite, 
Full long, with ghostly might, 
Forth from the couch, and thus she cried 

"Oh mother! hollow words you say: 

So grudge you me this night most fair; 
From this warm couch drivst me away; 
Must I awake but to despair? 
And art thou not content, 
Though to my grave I'm sent, 
For you an early shroud to wear? 



"My innate judgment drives me e'er 

Out from my dreary confines hither ; 
Your priests' dull chantings too can n'er, 
And their prone blessings have weight eithei 
E'en salt and water cool 
Not where love's feelings rule; 
And O! nor can earth cool love either. 

"Erst was this youth my promised token, 
When Venus' temple graced our land; 
Ah mother, you the pledge have broken, 
While on a strange, false vow you stand ! 
But no God ever hears, 
Howe'er a mother swears 
To thus deny her daughter's hand. 

"I'm driven e'er from out my grave, 

This treasure lost to reingage, 
To love him whom I cannot save, 

With his drained life-blood love assuage. 
Is this of him then done. 



Must I away be gone, 
To sink down others 'neath my rage. 

4 'Fair youth, no longer canst thou live; 
Upon this place thou shriv'lest here; 
I did my chain unto you give, 

Your lock I'll take with me from here. 
Observe it closely! Aye, 
Tomorrow thou'lt be gray, 
But brown wilt thou again appear. 

"Hear, mother, hear my final prayer; 
Build me a pyre; raise it once more; 
Ope up my wretched tomb of care; 
Thus lovers' rest in flames restore, 
When bright the ashes glow, 
When high the flames up go, 
We'll soar up to the gods of yore." 



103 



THANKS. 

I'm much obliged — or, thank you — thanks, for short, 
By random tongues at random idly spoken, 
As if to pay a tenfold price for trivial token, 

Does riper age a child's politeness sport — 

An impulse of the moment to resort 

To formal etiquette in childhood learned, 
Oft' lavished oft', on those in secret spurned 

To mock the manners of a parrot court. 

But there are thanks that tongue has never uttered, 
Loud praise that ne'er an auditory cheers, 

With which some quiet, grateful hearts o'erfiow — 

If, reader, you our booklet read, nor muttered 
That in it nothing but mere trash appears, 

Our thanks accept that unheard brighter glow. 
104 













.P^ 




*2*_ A > 




